


Like a Marcy Playground Song

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Cursed Derek, Derek is a vending machine, His jizz really is candy, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magical Shenanigans, Never ask Deaton for a solution to a magical problem, Other, dub con due to situation, sex with a vending machine, the answer is always sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a gifset on tumblr.</p><p>Derek is turned into a vending machine by a witch.  The only way to get him back is to sex him up.</p><p>If you think this is crack, you're 100% correct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Marcy Playground Song

**Author's Note:**

> So, based on [this gifset](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/post/85800884828/devildoll-tagged-bottom-derek-i-would-say) and [DevilDoll's](http://devildoll.tumblr.com/) tag of #bottom derek... well, I couldn't resist. 
> 
> I am really not sorry.

The witch hissed an incantation into Derek's face before disappearing in a puff of black smoke. It was the coolest fucking thing Stiles had ever seen in real life and he was about to turn to Scott and mention that when Derek let out a high, pained whine, backed toward the wall, and disappeared.

Okay, no, he didn't actually _disappear._ He curled in on himself, his mouth dropped open, and more black smoke poured from it, surrounding his entire body. When the smoke cleared, a vending machine stood where Derek had once been.

"Best. Witch. Ever." Stiles' awed whisper merited him a head smack from Scott and a loud, displeased beep from the machine.

"Derek," Isaac asked the machine, "do you have any idea how we're supposed to turn you back?"

"You do realize he has no way to tell you, right?" Stiles asked, slightly worried for Isaac's mental health.

"Sure he does," Isaac said, pointing to the digital display where most machines had a scrolling message of _Enjoy a Coke!_ or _Please insert a dollar._

Only this one read, _...How the fuck should I know?...Call Deaton...Stiles is an asshole..._

"Yep, definitely Derek." Stiles tilted his head, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change, approaching the machine.

_...Put that money in me and I'll bite your hand off...Stiles is an asshole..._

"Hey, buttmunch, you already said that about me being an asshole."

_...It's on repeat...Stiles is an asshole..._

"Okay," Scott said, interrupting before Stiles could unplug Derek. "Deaton says one of us has to have sex with him."

_...what...Stiles is an asshole..._

"Sorry, bud, that's what he said. He also said at least you weren't in the Preserve because she would've turned you into a tree. It's a way to trap you in this form, like...urban camouflage. You're just lucky we were with you when it happened." Scott held up his phone with a sympathetic grimace.

"Okay, well," Isaac looked at them, a slightly panicked expression on his face, "can it _not_ be me this time?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes and smiled, clapping his hands onto Isaac's shoulders. "No problem. I got this."

Derek's beep was far more distressed this time. _... what … no … why … STILES IS AN ASSHOLE! ..._

"Maybe," Stiles said, approaching Derek with nothing but swagger. "But I'm the asshole who's gonna get you out of this mess. Unless you _want_ to be a vending machine for the rest of your life?"

_...................._

"Well?"

_...I'm thinking..._

Because he really was an asshole, Stiles started humming the Jeopardy! theme song.

_...I hate you...fine...but you're still an asshole..._

"Yeah, yeah. Talk dirty to me, baby."

"Um, Stiles," Scott said, his voice hesitant and expression disturbed. "I, uh, appreciate you taking one for the team and all, but...dude. We're in the hospital. You can't just..."

Stiles motioned down the hall. "Go stand guard, then. Not like this'll take long."

Scott looked between Derek-the-vending-machine and Stiles, obviously torn. "Well, at least...keep your pants up? You know, just...zipper?" Scott made vague motions around his crotch, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Scott, buddy, I got this. Just go."

As soon as Scott started walking in one direction, Isaac bolted the other way, like he couldn't believe his good fortune in being picked last.

Whatever. Sex was sex.

"Okay, so uh. I'm assuming the slot here?" Stiles asked, flipping the food return slot back and forth.

 _...jevxgs chrxght...St36hiles!..._ appeared on the display, accompanied by a low, moaning whine.

Stiles' eyebrows shot up and he tapped the flap again. "Good or bad?" he murmured.

_...it's finzze..._

"Dammit, Derek, I'm trying to find out if it's hurting you."

_...not hurting..._

"Really? You don't sound sure." Stiles rapidly flicked the flap until the whole machine shuddered and a package of Reese's Cups fell down. "Holy shit," Stiles whispered, awed. "Did you just... Is that...?"

_......not yet...cloz..._

"Close, huh?" Stiles straightened up, glanced quickly down the corridor—which was still empty, thanks to Scott and Isaac—and shuffled until his front side was blocked from all camera angles. Lowering his zipper, he reached into the slit in his boxers and pulled out his half-hard cock, giving it a few quick strokes to catch up. Then he stopped and sized up Derek's new form.

The food return slot was lined up pretty perfectly, but he didn't really have anywhere to grip. So, being adaptable, he stretched his arms to either side of the machine and basically hugged it while thrusting his dick against the food return flapper.

Derek—the vending machine—shook and whined against him, causing his breath to break and his cock to swell further. The scratch of his zipper and friction of his jeans added to the illicit oddness of the situation—plus, well, sex with Derek fucking Hale—brought him right to the edge in no time.

But it was the sight of dozens of candy bars falling into the food tray, and all that signified, that had Stiles going off like a rocket.

Falling to his knees, he scooped out the candy. Just in time, too, because no sooner had he gathered the armful of candy than Derek turned back into a human and slumped against him.

"Jesus Christ," was the first thing Derek muttered when he had his voice back.

"Nice to see you acknowledging me as your savior!" Stiles grinned smarmily as he shoved a peanut butter cup in his mouth. "Though," he added, gesturing toward all the candy, "you have to admit I pushed all the right buttons."

Derek scowled, obviously not a fan of the fine comedic art form that was the pun. "You realize that's basically my jizz, right?" Derek asked, his eyebrows judging Stiles hard. Then he looked down and rolled his eyes. "You couldn't even zip up first?"

"Fuck you, dude. I'm reveling in what will undoubtedly be the best experience of my life. Ever."

A low grunt accompanied Derek yanking a Snickers bar from the pile in Stiles' lap. "Sex _and_ candy," he muttered. "Like a fucking Marcy Playground song." He pulled a face when he went to open the wrapper and dipped his fingers in a smear of Stiles' come.

Stiles nearly choked to death on his last bite. "But you, man. You were like a _machine_!" He had to duck quickly to avoid Derek's halfhearted smack.

"I don't suppose we can agree to never speak of this again?" Derek asked, already sounding resigned.

"Not a chance."

Settling back, they ate two more candy bars each before Stiles asked, "So, you think Deaton can teach me that spell?"

"Stiles!"

**Author's Note:**

> [Yep, I do the tumblr thing.](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/)


End file.
